Cesar Vallejo

(16 March 1892 – 15 April 1938 / La Libertad)

Paris, October 1936 - Poem by Cesar Vallejo

From all of this I am the only one who leaves.
From this bench I go away, from my pants,
from my great situation, from my actions,
from my number split side to side,
from all of this I am the only one who leaves.

From the Champs Elysées or as the strange
alley of the Moon makes a turn,
my death goes away, my cradle leaves,
and, surrounded by people, alone, cut loose,
my human resemblance turns around
and dispatches its shadows one by one.

And I move away from everything, since everything
remains to create my alibi:
my shoe, its eyelet, as well as its mud
and even the bend in the elbow
of my own buttoned shirt.

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Read poems about / on: moon, paris, people, alone, october, death

Poem Submitted: Thursday, January 1, 2004

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